


After All That We've Been Through (I Know We're Cool)

by softer_softest



Category: Green Day
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Established Relationship, Fluff, High School AU, M/M, MAJORLY fluffy, Teenager AU, billie/mike - Freeform, green day rpf - Freeform, implications of homophobia, really nothing extreme, there's a doggo in there, this is just fluff 'cause i'm sad, young billie, young mike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 16:31:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16122428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softer_softest/pseuds/softer_softest
Summary: Billie has already fallen asleep on his chest, and it really doesn't matter anymore.or, billie's an absolute moron when he's drunk, and mike just can't seem to be able to catch up on some sleep.





	After All That We've Been Through (I Know We're Cool)

**Author's Note:**

> i've been kinda depressed lately so i wrote some bullshit to get me through the day. i've read over it a couple of times, i'm sorry if there's something off about it or anything.
> 
> also, thank you to people who have been sending me, like, little prompts and stuff. i tried to get on those, if you have any other prompts feel free to tell me about them!
> 
> as always: i do not own green day, and i'm not claiming any of this ever happened. i hope you enjoy!

It's four in the morning, and Mike's bored out of his mind. 

He really shouldn't even be up right now, hence the constant, uncontrollable drooping of his eyes, but he just can't get himself to fall back to sleep. It was around two in the morning when he'd heard his phone ring and dragged himself out of bed, just to check if it was either one of his parents who'd been out getting dinner or whatever they do this late at night. He almost drops his phone on the ground in sheer disbelief as he recognizes Tré's contact name on the screen, but instead of picking up and letting him know just how low he thinks of him right now, he drops back onto his bed, more than ready to forget anything ever happened as he falls back asleep.

Tré keeps calling. A weird scenario would be one where Tré had respected Mike's need to get at least four hours of sleep and had actually _stopped_ calling, which Mike knows and understands with the entirety of his soul, but he still can't help getting irritated. So much so that he's forced to grab his phone from the floor and answer the damn thing, just to stop the relentless ringing.

Turns out, Tré's parents had also gone out for the night and the whole _'alone in the house at two in the morning'_ ordeal was making him shit his pants a little bit. Mike didn't respond for a while, ending up hanging up on him just to be called again a mere two seconds later. Leave it to Tré to keep him up for two hours because he's a fucking wuss.

Tré hung up on him – he actually had the nerve to be the one to hang up on him – a few minutes ago, and all Mike can do right now is watch one of these stupid late night telemarketing shows uselessly, waiting to pass out on the couch. It's really not as easy as it sounds.

The fact that Beth's started barking her head off in his front yard doesn't really help his case. He tries to ignore it for a little while, not realizing his head's slowly slouching forward, his eyes long dropped shut. He jumps up when Beth lets out a particularly loud howl, and Mike guesses that she only sounds chipper because he's severely sleep deprived.

“Jesus Christ, Beth,” he sighs, standing up on wobbly legs. The remote control that had been previously lying on his thighs drops on the floor noisily, and he hisses under his breath as he walks over to the window in his kitchen. He lifts the curtain just a bit, just to check out what's gotten Beth all antsy, and does a double take when he sees a dark figure standing on his front yard. 

He rubs at his eyes, just to make sure he's not seeing things, and his fingers start twitching when the figure's still there. He would be out threatening to call the cops on this person if he wasn't so damn confused, because from where he's standing, it looks as if the person's petting Beth, and he guesses this is indeed what's happening because he can see Beth wagging her tail excitedly. 

He huffs when he sees the person try to walk a little further and subsequently trip over their own feet, and guesses he would be able to smell the alcohol all the way from his front yard if he were to open the front door. Which doesn't really seem like a bad idea right now. Who knows; maybe this guy is trying to kidnap Beth or something. He really can't handle this right now.

He's not really well known for making great decisions in general – let alone at four in the fucking morning when he's basically a sleep-deprived zombie – and he opens the front door without giving it further thought, kind of regretting it as soon as the chilly morning air hits his bare arms and shins. At least he's wearing socks.

The guy doesn't really register Mike's standing in front of his house, but Beth does because she turns her head towards him and starts barking happily once again. The dude's still petting her, so Mike guesses she must consider this position too beneficial to run towards him as usual. 

He waits for a while, but the guy seems pretty infatuated with Beth and doesn't lift his eyes from her, so Mike clears his throat in hopes to get his attention. He does, and he's kind of iffy about the fact that the guy has his hood pulled over his head and his face can't be seen from the cast shadows. He tries not to gulp too audibly. 

“Uh,” Mike stutters out, immediately trying to stand up a bit taller afterward, not wanting to seem scared or anything. He just hopes the guy won't be able to smell him shit his pants. “I'd really appreciate it if you got out of my front yard, dude.”

Mike unconsciously holds his breath as he waits for an answer, probably in vain. The guy seems to be staring at him – Mike wouldn't really fucking know, what with not being able to actually _see_ his face and all – and then Mike makes out the motion of a tilting head, almost confused. Mike really doesn't think he's being unreasonable, but that may be the absolute fright talking.

Beth runs over to him then, as if she senses that he's riddled with anxiety, and she gets up on two of her legs in front of him. He distractedly holds onto the paws that are reaching up to him, rubbing them slowly as he waits for the dude to pull out a handgun or a knife or whatever serial killers have stored in their pockets. 

Instead, he notices shiny teeth. He doesn't really know if the guy's smiling at him in particular, or just at the convenience of his victim being dumb enough to walk right into his trap. Mike's fingers suddenly still on top of Beth's paws as the guy stands up slowly, and she lets out an alarmed bark at his numbness.

Mike's sure he's going to feel the piss trickling down his leg any minute now. It's mostly because this dude seems way more serious and squared up now, and the fact that he's shorter than Mike – and shorter than average – doesn't really make a difference right now. Beth must get tired, because she gets back on all fours and runs back to her little house, grabbing her chew-toy and bringing it back to Mike hopefully. Mike almost tells her this is not the time.

He flinches a little when the guy suddenly lifts both of his arms over his head, his fingers crooked in a way reminiscent of a rake, or a child imitating a ghost. He takes a few steps forward, and Mike takes a few steps back, and then he hears a loud scream of, _“Boo!”_

It's fortunate that the guy's standing in the moonlight now, and Mike can really make out his face. It's also fortunate that Mike's not holding any sharp objects right now. If he were to be holding anything blunt enough to cause a concussion, believe him when he says that he would fucking use it as hard as his trembling hands would allow him.

“Asshole!” Mike yells, lurching forward so he can kick his ass, preferably throw him on the ground and deliver blow after blow to his ugly mug. His heart's still fucking beating loud enough to be felt through his whole body.

“I'm sorry!” Billie tries to say, but Mike supposes it would be difficult if you're laughing as hard as he is. Sure enough, giving Mike Pritchard a fucking heart attack must be the funniest thing in the whole wide world. “Your fucking _face!”_

“You're seriously- _Jesus,”_ Mike hisses frustratingly, noting that some of his neighbors have long turned on the lights in some of their rooms. It's four in the morning, for God's sake. “I hope you freeze to death, you prick.”

“No, wait!” Billie slurs, grabbing Mike's arm as he makes to go back into the warmth of his house. The hairs on his skin have started to rise up from the breeze. “I didn't even mean to – you're just a p-” he hiccups, and Mike rolls his eyes. “Pussy.”

“Have fun out here, you ass,” and then he makes to approach the front door. He doesn't realize Billie's running until he's already inside the house, with Beth hot on his heels. He pauses. “You're so fucking annoying,” Mike sighs out, following them both inside and closing the door behind them. “Ugh, Beth, you're getting mud all over the tile.”

“Hey, leave Beth alone,” Billie pouts prettily, crouching down once again so he can scratch behind Beth's ears. “That's why she loves me more than you, by the way. I'd never yell at her,” he follows up, his voice taking on an obnoxious, shrill baby tone as he scratches under Beth's ears.

“Yeah, whatever,” Mike mumbles, knowing there's some kind of truth to it. Maybe Beth doesn't love Billie _more_ than him; but their bond isn't any less strong than her and Mike's is. Which is ridiculous, if you ask him, because Mike and Beth have been together ever since he was ten years old, whereas Billie only met her two years ago. Billie's annoying, anyway. “What are you doing here?” Mike asks, his whole body dropping down on the couch and stretching about. He's not even sure he's sleepy anymore.

Billie tries to stand up straight, and Mike's not at all surprised when he ends up slipping and falling on his ass, allowing Beth to climb onto his lap and start licking all over his face. “I missed you,” he giggles distractedly, trying to push Beth away. He shrugs a shoulder, “And I kind of forgot how to get back to my house.”

“Might have something to do with you reeking of beer,” Mike says, as nonchalantly as he can muster, but Billie rolls his eyes nonetheless. He delivers a kiss on Beth's nose and sends her off with a pat on her side, somehow managing to make her go over and start playing with Mike. Mike grabs her paws as she reaches up to him, “Care to explain?”

“You're not my mom,” Billie mutters, slowly standing up and managing to find his balance this time, “but yeah. Jason told me I couldn't drink a whole six pack in under ten minutes.”

“So, naturally, you drank a whole six-pack in under ten minutes,” Mike nods, huffing out of his nose. Beth climbs all the way into his lap. “I'm really not that surprised.”

“Well, you shouldn't be,” Billie huffs, making his way over to the couch. _“Beth,”_ he sings, making grabby hands at her. Beth's ears perk up. “I love Beth,” he continues, ending up tripping over the arm of the couch and falling face first onto Mike's thigh. Mike scoots a bit further away. “She's so soft." 

Mike sighs in contentment, scratching Beth's head gently. She nuzzles back into Mike's hand and ends up crawling back into Billie's lap once he's situated on the other side of the couch.

Billie absolutely gushes over her, his hands rubbing all over her fur, his smile wide as she licks his chin. “She kind of looks like you,” Billie giggles, and Mike stares. Not necessarily because Billie looks really pretty right now, but because he must be drunker than Mike thought. He doesn't look like a dog. He just doesn't.

“Are you hallucinating now?” he finally says, after thinking about it for a while. He knows he isn't, but really, how do you respond to that? 

“What?” Billie furrows his eyebrows, facing Mike even as Beth continues to salivate over his cheek. “No. You just look like a Golden Retriever.”

Mike continues to make eye contact, trying his best not to crack a smile. God bless beer. “Okay,” he says simply, and it must satisfy Billie because he nods and goes back to trying to lick Beth's nose. He doesn't succeed.

None of them speaks for a while, and Mike's just gone back to watching the TV screen blankly, his fingers tapping on the arm of the couch rhythmically. Beth barks.

“What's that, Beth?” Billie slurs, pretending to stretch his ear out so as to hear whatever he thinks he's hearing. Mike rests his head on his hand, staring on fondly. “You want Mike to stop being a moron and come over here and scratch both of our backs? Well...” he says loudly, scratching behind her ear. He doesn't steal one glance at Mike.

Mike rolls his eyes, but scoots over anyway, fitting his arm along the back of the couch and behind Billie's back. “I'm not scratching anyone's back,” he says, even as he's rubbing along Beth's side. “I'm pretty sure your back's filthy, anyway.”

“Why don't you find out?” Billie tries again, huffing as Mike shakes his head stubbornly. He squirms around a bit, trying to get comfortable with Beth on his lap and Mike by his side, but ends up being pressed up even further into Mike's side. Mike's pretty sure this was his motive. _“Mike...”_ Billie sings, his finger lightly touching Mike's cheek.

_“Bill,”_ Mike sings back, trying to pull Beth into his own lap. She refuses, and only reaches up to put her paws on Billie's shoulders. “Stop stealing my dog.”

“It's my dog now,” Billie murmurs distractedly, too busy playing with Beth to pay attention to him. Mike watches them for a minute, and then promptly decides to rest his chin on Billie's shoulder, allowing Beth to lick his nose twice.

“You haven't called me for ages,” Mike says suddenly, one of his fingers scratching on Billie's stomach, under his shirt. His tone isn't accusatory. Billie sighs.

“Mom took my phone,” he explains simply, and then a little smile tugs on his lips. “Why? You missed me?" 

Mike shakes his head fondly. “Asshole,” he mumbles, even as he leans down to kiss Billie briefly. Billie snorts. “But, yeah, sure,” he adds dismissively. “You're lovely.”

Billie sighs again, never lifting his gaze from Beth's watery eyes. He tilts his head slightly, and nods to himself, “God, you really _do_ look like her.”

“I'm pretty sure dating a dog is illegal,” Mike murmurs sleepily. His hand has been playing with the little curls on the nape of Billie's neck for a while now, and he pulls on one a little harder, only to hear Billie bitch about it.

“Hey, watch it,” Billie hisses, indeed, and slaps at his forearm, doing nothing to make him pull his hand away. “My hair's already fucked up as it is. I don't need you pulling at it.”

“Your hair is pretty and curly and smells good,” Mike replies casually, scratching at Billie's scalp. “At least it was,” he motions to his head with his free hand, “before all the hair dye.”

“Exactly my point,” Billie sniffs, his mouth opening wide to accommodate a yawn. He tries to push Beth onto the floor and succeeds, with Mike's help. Billie takes advantage of the new space right away, and stretches his legs with a satisfied sigh, leaning his whole body completely into Mike's side. Mike hugs him back. “Where are your parents?” Billie asks sleepily, rubbing around Mike's chest, over his tank.

“Eating with friends or some shit,” he says, resting his head on the back of the couch. He opens his mouth to add something but supposes there isn't anything else to say, so he just sighs instead, and closes his eyes when he feels cold lips resting against his neck.

“I miss your mom,” Billie murmurs against his skin, making goosebumps involuntarily rise all along his flesh. He laughs because really, anyone that knows Billie well enough would be able to pick up on the sarcasm in his voice.

“Well, she doesn't,” Mike scratches at Billie's skull softly and sighs as Beth tries to climb back onto the couch. “As long as she's happy, Bill-o.”

Billie snorts, slapping Mike's cheek jokingly, “Any parent would be happy that their son is no longer engaging in any faggot activities.”

“I guess,” Mike shrugs, and ducks his head to kiss Billie as if to prove a point. He lingers for a little while, and then his eyes are back on the TV. Beth's given up by now, in favor of curling up under where Billie's feet are dangling over the edge of the couch, whereas Billie seems to be getting closer to Mike by the second, until he's absolutely glued against his side, under his armpit. Mike sniffs, “I miss faggot activities.”

“Hey, that's why I'm here,” Billie pinches his side, too soft for Mike to flinch. “Snuggling is gay. Kissing is gay. Everything's gay if you want it to be." 

The fact that he's whispering all of this as if it's some sort of top-secret makes this even funnier. Mike looks at him, careful not to burst out laughing, and tilts his head, “It's kind of hard to believe that you stopped after just a six pack.”

Billie shrugs skeptically, “It was more, yeah. I can't remember exactly how much.”

“Unsurprising.”

Billie doesn't think about it too much. He puts his head back down onto Mike's chest, and his eyes drift over to Beth's golden fur peeking out into his line of vision. He reaches out so that his hand dangles over the edge of the couch, and sighs when he feels a warm tongue lick over his fingers, almost instantly.

Mike supposes that's the end of the conversation for now. Billie Joe speaks up again, anyway, “Can I sleep here tonight?”

Mike chuckles, “I thought you were doing that already,” and he pushes back some of Billie's curls that have fallen onto his forehead. “You're drooling on my shirt a little bit."

“That's alright,” he mumbles sleepily, as if him drooling onto Mike's shirt would affect Billie in any way. “If your mom walks in, wake me up.”

“I'm pretty sure you'll know when my mom walks in,” Mike mumbles, and then starts poking at Billie's lower back when he sees his eyes dropping shut. “Hey, do you wanna go over to the bed?”

“Here is fine,” Billie mutters into Mike's tank and subsequently stretches his legs over the other side of the couch. “You're warm.”

“Yeah, but I'm the one you'll be whining to when your back hurts tomorrow,” Mike rubs his back encouragingly and makes to move from his curled up position, only to be weighed down by a persistent Billie. He chuckles lightly, rubbing at his back once again, “Come on, let's go.”

“You're so annoying,” Billie sniffs, but he allows Mike to pull him on his feet, remaining rather unhelpful about it. He laughs sleepily as Mike tries to carry him into his arms, finds he's much too heavy for him and decides to hug him around the waist and put his arm over his own shoulders. “Oh, I love me a strong man.”

“Shut up,” Mike grumbles, trying to drag Billie over to the door leading to the corridor. It's pretty fucking hard, what with Billie not really _moving_ and all.

“My _muscly_ man,” Billie rubs at his chest teasingly, “so strong and hot and _rugged."_

Mike eventually decides he's had enough, and he leans down, taking a deep breath and managing to lift Billie into his arms, similar to a way a groom carries a bride once they're newly married. Mike hopes Billie doesn't comment on the similarity. 

_“Woah!”_ Billie screams, giggling when Mike shushes him hastily. “You _are_ strong after all!” he buries his face into Mike's neck, blissfully unaware to the fact that Mike's arms are about to fall off. “I'm not even sure if I wanna just sleep anymore..." 

“Well, you're going to,” Mike huffs, pausing on the doorway of his bedroom to regulate his breathing. He pinches the back of Billie's thigh as he feels kisses being laid along his neck, “We're sleeping.”

“Together?” Billie slurs, squealing as he's being dumped onto Mike's dirty mattress. “If that's the case, there's something I've been hiding from you.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Mike says, though there's a humorous edge to his tone. Billie's fucking hysterical when he's drunk. The best part is that he always forgets about it, too, so Mike has the privilege of letting him in on how much of an ass exactly he'd made of himself every time he'd drunk a bit too much.

Billie leans up, waiting until Mike's properly situated under the covers and next to him. His face is dead serious. “I'm a virgin,” he whispers.

Mike stares at him. He sighs tiredly, and gets himself further into the warmth of the covers, “I'd believe you if you weren't the biggest fucking slut I've ever known,” he says matter-of-factly, making Billie burst into a fit of giggles. He shakes his head in confusion as he thinks it through even further, “What are you even– Did you think I'd forget we've been dating for, like, a year?”

Billie's quiet for a moment. “I forgot.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mike huffs, lying down fully since he's been propped on his elbow, therefore having the amazing privilege of listening to Billie spew bullshit this far. He decides to be easy on him since he's positively shit-faced, and puts an arm over his waist.

Billie moves back into his side, similar to the position they were in on the couch, and lays a flat palm on Mike's chest, as well as his head. Mike finds the opportunity to put an arm around his back and really relax for a minute, though it's not for long. His parents will have to come home at some point. And they're going to check in on him sleeping, and they're inevitably going to see him holding Billie so intimately and lovingly.

Well. Billie has already fallen asleep on his chest, and it really doesn't matter anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for checking this out!


End file.
